


War for Suburbia

by dancinguniverse



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, HOAs are evil, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 13:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14916515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancinguniverse/pseuds/dancinguniverse
Summary: Nix and Dick are neighbors and friends, until Nix asks Dick to be his date to his father's wedding, when feelings emerge. Nix in return promises to get Dick out of a long-standing war with Sobel over the neighborhood HOA. Cameos by most of Easy Co.





	War for Suburbia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [siarc_a_botel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/siarc_a_botel/gifts).



> An HOA is a Homeowners Association. Some neighborhoods and developments in the US have them. They do nice things like organize snow plowing or trash pickup on private roads, or throw block parties, but they're also notorious for being run by small-minded people who like to enforce stupid rules designed to make the street incredibly homogeneous, like what color flowers you can plant. If you live in a community with an HOA, it's usually mandatory to join, and you agree as part of buying the house.

Dick throws another weed on the pile and then shifts his weight back onto his heels, studying his work. The peas are coming along, albeit slowly. The peppers are growing tall and bushy, though with no sign of fruit yet. The lettuce is looking like he might be able to harvest it in another week or so.

“You’ll win first place at the county fair, I promise,” Nix drawls from the picnic table.

Dick looks over his shoulder, giving Nix a crooked smile. Nix is sitting with his back to the table, the better to throw a much-abused tennis ball to the two dogs stomping on the grass in front of him. He gives every impression of extreme boredom, but Dick knows it's his favorite spot in the yard, and that sitting around doing basically nothing is Nix's idea of a pretty good time. It also puts him in prime position to watch over Dick as he crawls his way around the tiny garden plot, pulling weeds and draping tomato stalks back over their metal cages.

It’s what Dick had been doing when Nix had let himself into the yard a half hour ago with his dog, and while he’s shown no interest in helping Dick with his yard work, Nix has been comfortable offering unfounded advice, encouragement, or simply telling him he’s done enough work for the day.

“Really. You coddle those plants.”

“You’ve got something better to do?”

He knows Nix doesn’t. As far as Dick has ever been able to tell, his position “on the board” of his father’s business doesn’t require any actual time away from his home. Nix will travel occasionally, and he goes out regularly to meet people. But of obligations, Dick can’t say that he’s ever seen Nix have any. On the contrary, Nix seems to view his obligation now to the two dogs awaiting his next pitch.

Sophie is Dick’s dog, and she’s thrown herself flat on the ground, tail fanning out behind her, as a collie will do when set and waiting on a command. Nix’s Jack, a chocolate lab who lacks all dignity, is leaping in place, waiting for the ball to go flying.

Nix cocks his arm back and both sets of ears prick forward, though neither of them take their eyes off the ball. Nix tosses it toward the fence and they tear off as one, racing for the prize.

“Not until later.”

This is typical. Dick’s job keeps him out most days, but Nix’s social calendar occupies him most nights. Dick doesn’t ask too closely after these engagements. He’s known Nix long enough to know that the clubs and bars that Nix frequents aren’t of interest to him.

When they're both home, Nix is over often enough anyway. He lives two doors down, close enough to notice when Dick is out in the yard and wander over with Jack. Dick doesn’t mind. He likes having Nix around, and he has trouble these days remembering a time when he wasn't at Dick's shoulder more often than not.

Dick settles down on the bench next to Nix. “I got another letter.”   

“Christ, what now?” Nix turns to him, expectant.

“My mailbox is the wrong color.”

Nix snorts, eyes alight with humor. “Your mailbox is white.”

“It’s the wrong shade of white.”

“You know, if Sobel would put an ounce of the effort he spends enforcing the chickenshit HOA rules into something worthwhile, he could probably solve world peace.”

“Alas,” Dick murmurs, and Nix laughs. “Maybe I’ll paint it neon pink.”

“Camo pink,” Nix suggests, and Dick is tempted, but he shakes his head.

“He’ll just fine me again, and I’m tired of funding… whatever it is my fines are funding. It’s more effort than it’s worth to annoy him just for the heck of it.”

“Yeah,” Nix coughs, and Dick looks over, intrigued. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Nix was nervous. “Speaking of pissing people off.”

“Go on.”

“My father, as I’ve mentioned, is getting remarried this summer.”

“The Blonde,” Dick supplies, well versed in Nix’s family and all the attendant drama.

“Blonde Bitch,” Nix corrects. “It’s okay, Dick. She can’t hear you, and believe me, she deserves it.”

Dick thinks it’s hard to imagine anyone deserving the scorn Nix has laid down for the woman, and that she can’t possibly be as bad as Nix claims, much less the rest of his family. Not that Dick has a high opinion of them from everything Nix has shared, but Nix does have a flair for the dramatic. He figures creative license is at least a factor in Nix’s stories. “Your point?”

“My point is that I don’t want to go, but that’s not an option. So I figured, if I have to ruin a weekend of my own with them, I may as well piss them off in the process.”

“Sensible,” Dick says drily.

“Be my date,” Nix says, and Dick takes one look at his face and knows he’s serious. Dick tries his best not to freeze. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined this moment, though not with this particular context. Nix had always been very clear he wasn’t interested in relationships, and Dick wasn’t interested in being one of the string of men and women he saw leaving Nix’s house more Saturday and Sunday mornings than not. Except for the times when he thought about it honestly, and knew he was.

“As friends, right?” Dick says, and hopes it comes out casually.

“No,” Nix says, and Dick goes very still this time. “I mean, yes,” he corrects, and Dick breathes again, equal parts disappointed and relieved. “Yes, Dick, obviously as friends. I know you’re,” he waves his hand, sparing Dick whatever description Nix was about to bestow on him. “But I want them to think you’re my date. Please. It’ll piss them off so much.”

“Because I’m a guy?” Dick is annoyed by that entire idea, and not particularly interested.

“Well, yes, but also because you’re _you_. Do you know how much more annoying that will be to them than if I brought some twink or playboy bunny they could just laugh off? Please. It’s perfect. Plus,” he adds, clearly seeing Dick’s apprehension, “you _are_ my friend, Dick. You can’t leave me alone with them.”

Dick hesitates. Justified or not, he knows how Nix feels about his family. He fights the urge to give in to Nix just on principle. “What do I get out of it?” he asks, and Nix looks at him approvingly. He likes driving bargains.

While Nix considers, Sophie wanders over in their direction, nose on the ground, following the trail of some rabbit or other that snuck into Dick’s yard in spite of her regular patrols. She settles herself on Nix’s side, resting her muzzle adoringly on his knee, and Nix brightens. “I’ll get rid of your Sobel problem.”

“Fine,” Dick agrees. He could use the help in getting Sobel off his back. And he doesn’t want to consign Nix to his relatives’ clutches alone if he can help. He can pretend to be Nix’s date for one night. He’s gone out with Nix plenty of times before when they weren’t a date. It’s just a few hours, and they’ll be with Nix’s family the whole time, which Dick thinks is probably the strongest mood-killer there could be. It’ll be fine.

* * *

 

 A branch comes down in a storm that night, taking out a part of Dick’s fence. There’s not much he can do about it before work, so he makes sure the debris is clear of the sidewalk and gets on with his day. He stops by the hardware store and picks up some planks on his way home.

When he pulls into his drive there’s a note in his mailbox telling him the broken fence is against regulations. He hauls the branch to the backyard and sets about mending the fence. He gets it back up, though the patchwood is a different color than the old fence.

The next day, he has a note about that as well.

He shares these latest offenses with Nix, who points out the odd and newly developed bare patches in Sobel’s yard. Apparently it’s against regs to not maintain your lawn. He thinks he’ll go write a letter. Dick wishes him well at it.

“The wedding’s three hours away,” Nix says, apropos of nothing, as he walks backwards up his driveway. “I’m getting us a room there for the night.”

Dick bites his tongue. “Sounds good,” he manages.   

* * *

 

It’s a warm May evening when Dick knocks on Nix’s door and suggests walking over to the park. It’s only a few blocks away, a small lot of grass and shade trees that hosts a soccer pitch without nets, a baseball diamond, and a few scattered picnic tables. But every summer it re-emerges as the prime gathering spot for their social circle, when softball season starts again. Dick was the coach of his county rec league for a few years until work grew too busy for the commitment. By the time he had free time again, the team was in Ron Spiers’ capable hands, and Dick has relegated himself to the cheering section ever since, which is otherwise almost entirely the team’s families or partners.

Nix swears that he couldn’t care less about the sport, but the dogs like flopping on the grass near the single row of bleachers and being adored by the other spectators, so he’s usually easy to bring along. And besides, Dick has caught him bellowing encouragement more than once as a member of Team Easy runs for home.

This time is no different, the mood jovial and relaxed. There are coolers scattered around the grass, some with beer, some with orange slices or popsicles or homemade salsa, which the group treats as a communal resource. Spiers stalks the lineup, eying the county-appointed umpire like a tiger waiting to pounce at the first sign of a bad call. The rest of the team wanders between their at-bats, chatting with their families or raiding the coolers for snacks and drinks. Luz has a radio, but the music fades underneath the clang of bat and ball, the shouting of instructions and encouragement to the runners.

There’s still a month of school left, so Kitty has the boys doing their homework when she’s not up to bat or fielding. Harry is more likely to distract them when he wanders in from the game, but it’s only Pat who needs watching. Under Dick and Nix’s joint, if partial, attention, he makes his way slowly through a spelling worksheet. Joey is reading _The Westing Game_ , his head pillowed on Jack’s haunch, and appears deeply engrossed. He only lifts his head when the game is over, and tucks a bookmark in with a sigh.

Easy wins, of course. They’re the reigning champions in the county three years running, so it's not a surprise, but Dick’s proud of them every time. He and Nix stand and stretch and move to congratulate the team, while around them people begin to pack up their blankets and belongings. There are fireflies just starting to blink in the far outfield and under the trees, and the parents with kids all sing the same refrain about school nights.

Dick has both dogs’ leashes, and he approaches where Nix is talking to Liebgott about a double play he’d made, a catch and throw to second so smooth it looked like one motion. Dick smiles, hearing Nix rave about it, and Liebgott looks pleased with his accolades, even if he’d already been the talk of the team since he made the play early in the third inning.

“Yeah, so you like me now,” Liebgott is ragging him, good natured, when Dick walks up. “But what’s this big meeting I hear you’re pulling together, that I’m not invited to?”

“You don’t live in the neighborhood,” Nix says easily, and Liebgott’s smile widens in a way that worries Dick.

“Oh, it’s about _that_ asshole.”

Nix grins, and then he catches Dick’s eye. “You ready to head back?”

“What meeting?” Dick asks, and Nix waves to Liebgott, takes Jack’s leash, and starts walking.

“I’ve got ideas, though!” Liebgott calls after them. “If you need any! Mean ones!”

Nix waves again.

“Nix?” Dick asks.

“Good game, huh?” Nix asks, and that’s all Dick can get out of him for the rest of the night.

* * *

 

Dick is changing his oil in his driveway the Tuesday before the wedding when Sobel comes home. Dick sees him approaching and sighs. After about the tenth letter, he’d read the community regulations in full. His truck isn’t allowed to be parked in the driveway, but neither is his garage door allowed to stand open for more than ten minutes, and it’s too hot to work in the garage with the door closed.

He braces himself and consciously puts down the wrench in his hand before straightening up to meet Sobel. Even just as posturing, he doesn’t need to resort to such pettiness. Much as he might like to.

But Sobel only makes it as far as the foot of Dick’s driveway before there’s a ferocious explosion of barking from Jack. Dick peers over and sees that Nix has the gardening hose out, liberally dousing his flowerbeds with water while Jack loses his mind, dancing and barking, snapping at the stream and making a giant game of the event.

Sobel turns promptly on his heel, striding across his property toward Nix. “Excuse me,” Sobel snaps, but it takes him a few tries before he can catch Nix’s eye over the clamor of canine excitement.

Dick watches long enough to see the wide-eyed innocence on Nix’s face when he turns, then grins and ducks back under his truck. By the time Sobel finishes his lecture and turns back around, Dick is finished, his truck is parked inside, and his garage door is closed.

Sobel tries anyway, knocking on Dick’s door that evening while he and Nix are finishing dinner. “Ignore him,” Nix advises, but Dick shakes his head. It’s too much like hiding.

Sobel brandishes a letter in Dick’s face when he opens the door. “Good evening, Dick,” he says curtly. “This is a reminder about the HOA agreement that pertains to driveways and front-of-house appearances, as well as a fine assessment for failing to abide by those rules. I photocopied the relevant sections, if you have any questions.”

“Thank you,” Dick says grimly, and moves to shut the door.

“What about an appeal?” Nix asks, appearing over Dick’s shoulder. Dick wishes he wouldn’t drag this out, but he’d never say so in front of Sobel. He looks straight ahead, somewhere over Sobel’s left shoulder.

“The bylaws are clear,” Sobel says, and Dick thinks it’s not just personal dislike that makes everything he says sound like a sneer. “He broke the rules, he can pay the fine.”

“The rules state that evidence has to be provided of any infraction. Do you have such evidence?” Nix’s voice is cool, dispassionate.

“Lewis, you were outside at the same time,” Sobel says, dismissive. “We both saw the truck.”

Nix’s voice doesn’t change. “Do you have evidence?”

Sobel’s face twists. Nix reaches forward, plucking the letter out of Dick’s hands and putting it back into Sobel’s. “Until you do, please stop trespassing on your neighbors’ property.”

He turns back to the table, and Dick hurriedly closes the door in Sobel’s gaping face.

Nix picks up his fork again, stabbing at a green bean. Dick eyes him thoughtfully. “You have a company that takes care of your yard,” he says. “Don’t they also water your flowers for you?”

Nix shrugs. “They looked thirsty.”

Dick shakes his head.

* * *

 

The wedding is at a vineyard, down a long dirt road that Dick finds handsome in the slanting afternoon light. Nix rolls his eyes, pointing out that neither his father nor The Blonde Bitch have ever cared about where their alcohol comes from, so why did they have to drive three hours to the middle of nowhere for the event? Dick chooses not to argue. He thinks the fields and the mansion rising up out of them look like a lovely, if expensive, place to get married, though he thinks he'd personally prefer something with more meaning behind it. 

Dick expects Nix to make a beeline for the bar with the scant few minutes he’d left them before the ceremony is due to start. But instead he hands his keys to the valet and then drags Dick away from the entrance and the guests milling just inside the doors. He walks Dick the long way around the building, pointing out over the fields and rambling on about the wine, all of which means nothing to Dick. But he can tell Nix is nervous, so he lets him talk until finally Nix looks down at his watch, curses, and finally turns toward the doors.

They enter the room set aside for the service just before the music begins, too late for small talk with anyone except whispered greetings. Dick is more occupied with finding a seat than remembering how to play things with Nix as his date. But Nix strides into the room like a prince, and there are two seats left at the far edge of the second row waiting for them. He ushers Dick into the row before him, hand ghosting over his back. Dick wonders if it’s meant as a sign, but he’s seen Nix make a bigger display in his front driveway with no one looking. He suspects it’s simply to encourage Dick to buffer any attempts at conversation between Nix and the severe looking woman peering at him over Dick’s shoulder. Dick nods at her, and then fixes his attention on the podium at front.

There’s a man in a dark suit standing with his hands clasped. He doesn’t wear a clerical collar, but he stands with the authority of one about to conduct a ceremony. Beside him is a man who can only be Nix’s father. They have the same dark coloring and the same set to their jaw, though the elder Nixon is softer, carrying more weight than his son, and his hair has started to grey. Dick can’t help the uncharitable thought that he doesn’t look like a man about to be married. He sneaks a glance to his left, but Nix is focused on the podium with a keen interest that the simple display doesn’t merit, and Dick decides not to ask any questions.

He isn’t sure what to expect. Surely not a religious ceremony, given Nix’s tales of his family. But Dick can’t imagine these people, formal and mostly a generation older than he, improvising the way Harry and Kitty had, writing their own vows and pulling readings from storybooks.

The music begins, and the crowd stands obediently.

The ceremony is short, as it turns out, and perfunctory. The presider is a judge of some sort, Dick understands, and he reads a formal statement that tilts a little too heavily in Dick’s mind toward order and matching rather than love. But then, Dick supposes that this isn’t the first marriage for either of them, and perhaps grand statements wouldn’t sit well with the participants.

The ceremony is over before he can fall too deeply into introspection, and Dick stands with the rest of the crowd to watch the couple retreat down the corridor of chairs. “Here we go,” Nix mutters under his breath, and Dick stops just short of rolling his eyes at his fatalistic tone.

They don’t even make it out of the room before Nix washes up against a woman in navy blue, her hair dark and piled elegantly off her neck. “Lewis. So glad you made it.”

“Hi, Aunt Alice.”

She doesn’t even look at Dick and Dick figures that’s fine, since he’s not her nephew that she apparently hasn’t seen since Christmas. Dick drifts behind Nix as they follow the crowd, he and his aunt exchanging small talk about a cousin Dick doesn’t know.

Dick always feels a little stiff in his good suit, the jacket rigid and thick. He feels like he’s taking the stiffness into his shoulders, his spine, his neck. The stifled feeling had started in his room when he was getting dressed, forcing Sophie not to rub hair all over his dark slacks, moving carefully lest he untuck his carefully tucked shirt or twist his carefully tied tie.  

They hadn’t actually talked this over in detail. Nix had said he wanted Dick to be himself, that if he’d wanted a floozy, he would have brought one. But they were also supposed to be a couple, and Dick, uncomfortable and at a loss, can feel himself growing testy. He clucks under his breath, shutting down the line of worry. He’s been out with Nix a hundred times. He’ll act like they always do.

Nix doesn’t take his arm as they walk inside, but Dick doesn’t stray any farther than if he had. Nix’s shoulders are tight, and he has his smoothest poker face on — though his actual poker face is usually more genial, at least when he’s playing with Harry and Ron.

Finally, when Dick has to squeeze awkwardly around a floral display to avoid being split away from Nix by the crowd, Alice looks over at him. “And are you here for the bride or the groom?” she asks him.

“This is Richard Winters,” Nix says smoothly. “Dick, this is my Aunt Alice.”

She continues looking at him expectantly, until Dick feels obliged to add, “I’m his date.”

“Oh, Lewis.” Alice shakes her head, looking like this is a particularly unfunny joke. “Honestly, now.”

Dick blinks at her. “Excuse me?” he asks, he thinks politely.

She doesn’t look at him. “At your father’s wedding?” she asks Nix pointedly.

Nix bares his teeth in something no one could really mistake for a smile. “I have no idea what you’re implying, Aunt Alice.”

“Oh,” she tuts again. “Always making a scene.” She pats him on the arm. “Behave yourself,” she warns, and leaves them to make her own way through the crowd.

Dick looks over to see Nix’s resigned expression, and a few things click. “Oh,” he says.

Nix looks up. “What?”

“You weren’t lying,” is what Dick says, though he winces immediately. Nix looks more amused than offended though.

“Lying about what?”

Dick wrinkles his nose, but the only way out is through. “Your family.”

“Oh.” Nix cocks his head. “Why would you think I was lying?”

“Well, maybe not lying,” Dick says. “Exaggerating.”

Nix laughs. “I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.”

* * *

 

The arrival of their meals breaks up the awkwardness of the table where they're seated, . Dick feels as if they ought to make small talk with the rest of the group, but he gets only chilly responses. Nix looks amused by the spectacle. No one else seems given to conversation at all, which strikes Dick as very odd for a family get together. He cuts off a piece of the beef, grateful for a reason not to converse, and puts it in his mouth.

Then he looks down in surprise, and cuts another piece hurriedly. It’s amazingly good. Dick busies himself with his food. After a while, he realizes he should pace himself, he supposes because of manners, but more because he wants to make sure he savors at least some of the dinner.

He turns to Nix, and takes in the sour expression on his own face. On his other side, Kate and Andrew are talking about tax policy, and across the table, the Cavendishes are talking about the Works, and Nix’s jaw clenches unhappily. Dick decides manners are for those who have earned them, and turns his chair so he’s facing Nix rather than anyone else at the table. He brushes the arm of Nix’s jacket, pulling his eyes over and away from the relatives who displease him so much.

“How mad do you think Sophie and Jack will be when we get home?”

Nix takes a moment to reset, but his jaw unclenches while he thinks it over. “Jack not so much. Sophie’s going to sulk, though. You spoil her.”

Dick is unfazed. “I do not. You feed Jack every time he looks at you funny.”

“Sophie loses her mind every time you come into the room. You let her pick her favorite walking paths. You never leave her alone. She’ll think you abandoned her.”

“It’s one night,” Dick says.

Nix raises his eyebrows. He’s picking slowly through the items on his own plate, vegetables and potatoes and the salmon he’d opted for.

Dick plays it cool for one more minute, and then he can’t take it anymore.

“This is the best steak I’ve ever had,” he says seriously. “This is the best broccoli I’ve ever had. I didn’t know broccoli could be this good.”

Nix laughs, surprised. “It’s alright,” he allows, and Dick reaches for Nix’s plate, spearing a bite of the fish on his fork. Maybe he’d gotten lucky with his pick.

“That’s even better,” he accuses. “Forget Sobel, you could have just told me the food would be this good, and I’d have come.”

Nix smiles at him, tension edging out of his face. “Well now I know too much. I happen to know a few restaurants that would put this catering to shame. I’ll have to come up with more favors you can do me.”

Dick feels the color rise in his cheeks, and puts another piece of potato in his mouth instead of responding. He doesn’t trust himself to say anything that won’t get him into trouble, and Nix is already in a teasing mood.

When the plates are cleared and the servers are beginning to circle again, prepping champagne glasses and stacking plates near the cake, Nix nudges Dick with his elbow. “Come out with me for a smoke.”

Dick looks around. “You’re going to miss the speeches.”

“That’s the idea,” he says under his breath, and Dick pushes back his chair to join him.

The balcony is quiet compared to the bustle of talk inside. It’s gotten cooler with the sunset, but it feels good after the crush of people indoors, and Dick leans comfortably next to Nix against the stone rail. Nix cups a hand around the end of his cigarette, and Dick watches the tiny flare of light from the flame, the orange glow when Nix draws in to make it catch. He’s been after Nix to quit as long as he’s known him, but he decides this one time, he won’t needle him.

Nix blows out a long breath, smoke drifting out over the field below.

“You know, if someone tried a backyard wedding in the neighborhood, it would really piss him off.”

Dick doesn’t need the proper noun. “You know anyone looking for a venue?”

Nix laughs. “Not at the moment. But I’ll keep an eye out.”

Inside, the clamor of voices dies down, and when he glances back, Dick can see people angling themselves forward, at attention once more. He looks at Nix, and they take two wordless, casual steps sideways, into the lee of an awkward corner, where the setting suns glares a little more, and where their shapes are less likely to be noticed from inside the main ballroom. Dick thinks with a pang that as good as dinner was, the cake would probably be amazing as well.

He turns back to Nix. “You haven’t actually said how you’re going to solve my problem.”

“Am solving,” Nix says, nonsensically Dick thinks, and then clarifies. “My plan’s already in action. Be patient, young grasshopper.”

Dick narrows his eyes, but he’s thinking, putting together things he should have before. “Where did those bare patches on Sobel’s lawn come from?”

Nix raises his eyebrows innocently, and takes another drag off his cigarette. “You know, I might have dropped something in his yard, now that I think about it.”

Dick frowns. “I’m not above just pissing him off, but I don’t see how that fixes my problems either.”

“As I said,” Nix grins, blowing out a mouthful of smoke in a way that should be disgusting, but isn’t at all. “Patience.”

“I think I’ve been patient,” Dick says, knowing he sounds grumpy and not caring. It’s just him and Nix. “I still don’t know what he gets out of it. Making everyone’s lives awful.”

“You hear he was on Talbert’s case last week? Poor guy was just trying to dry out a rug on his own fence. Another letter, another fine. Some people just like making people’s lives miserable. You wanna know more, you could talk to anyone in that ballroom.” Nix grinds out his cigarette on the ledge and heaves a breath.

“You want to head out?” Dick asks.

Nix rolls his eyes. “Don’t be a hero, Dick. I know you want a piece of that cake.”

“I don’t _need_ it,” he argues.

Nix herds him back inside, a hand on the small of his back. Dick spends most of the time they navigate back to their table overanalyzing that hand. It rests lower than Dick feels is really necessary for pure guidance, not low enough to be vulgar. It’s not at all the way Nix usually touches him, but it’s so casual that Dick has a hard time believing he’s doing it purely for show. Nix drops the hand when they reach the table again, and Dick has to bury his confusion in what turns out to be truly amazing cake. There are raspberries dotting the frosting, and Nix lets him scrape the remainders from his own half-finished plate.

There’s music now, but Dick doesn’t pay it much mind. They’ve angled their chairs back toward each other, effectively blocking out the rest of the table and, by extension, the room. Tucked close like this, knees knocking so they can lean in and be heard without shouting, feels almost normal. Nix stops looking like there’s a weight hung off his shoulders, and loosens up enough to laugh at Dick’s jokes, to tell stories about Harry that Dick had missed on nights he didn’t follow to watch them get drunk.

It’s a surprise when a woman about their age stops by the table, edging into their space until they’re obligated to look up, disrupting the circle of privacy they’ve concocted.

“Quite a change from your wedding, isn’t it?” she asks Nix. He draws back from Dick, leaning back in his chair to gaze up at her, resigned.

“Company’s much the same,” he says.

“There’s a few changes,” she points out, smiling at Dick. It’s not welcoming a welcoming smile. Dick is very aware he’s being made the butt of a joke, and he doesn’t like it. Then he glances at Nix, and realizes he was mistaken. It’s Nix the joke was meant for.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Nix says too casually, and Dick braces himself. “Kathy and I lasted a whole three years. You really think this is going to go any differently?”

“Stanhope has a bit more going for him than you.” Dick isn’t sure by whose measure this would be true, except possibly pure net worth, but it seems to strike home anyway judging by the set of Nix’s jaw. Dick stands, and both of the Nixons look at him as if they’d forgotten he was there.

Dick isn’t sure what he was thinking, just that it was time to end the conversation. Now that he’s standing, it feels more aggressive than he’d meant, and he doesn’t have Nix’s way with cutting words. Even if he did, he suspects he’d be outmatched in this particular setting.

“Excuse me,” he tells the woman, and pulls Nix up with him, walking away without another word. Nix follows him willingly, and Dick would have headed for the balcony again, but it feels too much like retreating. Instead, he strides grimly onto the dance floor, and puts his hands around Nix’s waist. Luckily, it’s a slow song, or Dick might not have had the courage.

Nix puts his arms around Dick as if they’ve done this a hundred times, instead of never. “Nice save,” he says, and Dick quirks his mouth.

“It was all I could think of,” he admits.

Nix laughs, quiet but genuine, and sinks closer to Dick, until they’re pressed together. “It’s why I brought you,” he murmurs in Dick’s ear. They’re not even properly dancing at this point, just swaying to the music. Dick thinks he should be holding himself apart somehow, but Nix is crowding against his front until Dick doesn’t have any choice but to rearrange his arms until they’re embracing, Nix’s head tucked against his shoulder, the smell of cigarettes and Nix’s cologne filling his nose.

Dick swallows and lets his head rest against Nix’s. Nix has been perfectly clear about what he wants out of his romantic relationships, which is essentially nothing. And Dick doesn’t want that. But right now, Dick thinks that maybe it would be alright to break his own rule, just once.

He knows it would never be just once. That Nix would break his heart the next time he went out on the town, and Dick can’t ask him for something he’s been clear isn’t on offer. Nix is his in every other way that counts, and Dick has to content himself with that. It’ll be enough. It has to be.

The song ends, and Dick forces himself to loosen his hands. He meets Nix’s eyes, and Nix jerks his head toward the door. “Grab some air?”

Dick goes with him gratefully.

They resume their positions in the corner of the balcony, shielded from the rest of the party. The evening is cooling off, the open air freer than the party inside. Nix settles next to him, close enough that their arms brush. Dick thinks that this isn’t normal for them, but he can’t be sure. Nix has a self-assured way of always placing himself exactly where he wants to be, personal space a priority for lesser mortals. Dick had let it happen, he knows, from the first time he let Nix enter the yard uninvited, the first time Nix stole French fries off his plate, the first time he bent his head over Dick’s shoulder to read a text message without asking. Dick has never refused him, and he knows that's its own invitation.

He draws in a breath, his arm pressing into Nix’s as he inhales, and then lets it out again.

They don’t often say the word sorry to one another. Dick likes to think it’s because they both know the value of actions over words, and that they apologize in more meaningful ways on the rare occasions that they cross each other the wrong way. In his more honest moments, Dick admits to himself that perhaps they share the flaw of pride.

So Nix doesn’t apologize for his family. “I warned you,” is what he says instead, and Dick accepts it.

“I should have believed you,” he admits in turn, and then, because Nix is still looking out over the field, eyes twitching sideways to see what else Dick thinks, he adds, “Honestly, Lew. They’re awful.”

They burst out laughing at the same time, and Dick knows there’s real hurt in there, but also enough distance most of these days that the humor is genuine, too, Nix snickering mostly out of relief. “Jesus, I know! You didn’t even meet my grandmother.”

Dick isn't sure how it happens. One moment, they’re looking at each other like they have a thousand times before, grinning at any of the thousand jokes they’ve shared, and the next they’re kissing, which has never happened before. Dick is sure about that part, because he's thought about this moment, and the real thing is no comparison at all. 

Nix’s lips are soft under his, and when Dick dares to lift his hand, his hair is as thick and wonderful as Dick had always suspected.

Each time Dick thinks he should let go, he steals one kiss more, one more touch against Nix’s jaw, smooth and clean shaved and surprising under his fingers. A few times he thinks he’s finally convinced himself to step back, and it’s Nix who tightens his grip, pushes forward again to deepen a kiss that had started to wane.

When they finally do break apart, it’s a matter of an inch, just enough for Nix to whisper, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Dick doesn’t disagree. They don’t even re-enter the ballroom. There’s a staircase that leads off the balcony in a wide stone sweep and they follow it down, walking the long way around the building’s exterior. Nix has his hand on Dick’s back again, fingers grazing his belt under the line of his jacket, and Dick is more certain of its meaning now. 

It’s only a few minutes’ drive to the hotel, and they pass it in silence. Dick thinks it’s their usual quiet, which they’ve never strained to fill. Dick’s mind is churning enough on its own without external chatter, reliving the feeling of Nix’s lips on his, thinking about the touches yet to come. He’s never needed to talk to fill space. But the silence leaves just enough time for him to start thinking. This will change things between them.

Or will it? Sex doesn’t carry the same importance to Nix as it does to Dick. Dick knows this, has known it for a long while. But Dick doesn’t like casual sex because it’s not casual to him, because he has never wanted it without the intimacy of knowing someone. Nix pulls up in front of the hotel and exits the driver’s side without a word to Dick, handing his key to the valet while Dick is still unfastening his seatbelt, feeling slow and suddenly alone. He pushes the door open and finds Nix standing by the valet, pocketing his claim ticket. He looks up, and Dick’s reserve vanishes.

Because he does know Nix, as intimately as he’s known anyone. He loves Nix, and he knows that Nix loves him, in his way. The look Nix is giving him is the same affectionate smile he always has for Dick, tempered by a heat that’s less familiar, but just as welcome.

Their footsteps fall together in time as they cross the wide hotel lobby, and Dick doesn’t think he’s imagining that they’re both walking a little faster than normal. It fills him wish a rush, because he’s never felt as in synch with someone as Nix, and it reassures him in a way words wouldn’t.

And Dick wants this, and he can’t see a reason, as the elevator doors close and Nix rounds on him, hand at his waist and curving along the line of his jaw, why he should say a word against it.

* * *

 

He says a lot of words later, when Nix’s mouth is closed around him, his hands pinning Dick to the sheets, Dick writhing and panting and stroking every part of Nix he can reach like this. They had started out eagerly, kissing and groping like teenagers against the inside of the hotel door. Eventually they had migrated to the bed, and slowed down to a long, languorous make out session such as Dick hasn’t experienced in a long time. He thinks they’re both getting to know each other in this new way, and they move slowly enough that for a while, even with Nix’s lips tracing signs and sigils on the skin under his left ear, Dick thinks that maybe this will be it for tonight, that it will taper down to just sleep. Maybe it’s even a good thing. Dick still isn’t quite sure if he thinks this is all moving too fast, their first kiss only an hour ago, or slower than the shifting of plate tectonics, because he’s known Nix for years now, and they’ve only just opened this box of wonders.

But Nix starts working Dick’s clothes off, inch by inch, and Dick reciprocates until they’re stretched out, skin to skin, and there’s no way this night is ending early. Dick is used to being teased by Nix, likes the way Nix knows which buttons to push and which ones to let lie. It’s not so different in bed, Nix’s mouth exquisite and talented, and Dick wants this to last forever and needs more _right now_ , and finally tells him so in a ragged gasp.

Nix laughs, the feel of it buzzing and making Dick jerk again. He pulls back, pressing a kiss to Dick's thigh before lifting himself off the bed entirely. Dick makes a wordless sound of dismay and throws an arm over his face in frustration, gripping the sheets with one hand and blowing out a harsh breath against the skin of his own arm. 

But Nix is back in a moment, the bed dipping as Nix crawls over him again, pulling Dick’s arm down and kissing him, letting Dick taste himself in Nix’s mouth. Nix pushes his fingers through Dick’s short hair, catching and dragging deliciously along Dick’s scalp.

It’s better, with Nix’s heavy weight back on top of him, but still not enough. Dick arches up, rubbing greedily against Nix’s stomach, and Nix hisses, hips snapping down in response. He pushes Dick gently down into the covers, holding up a travel container of lube for inspection. “You want to—“ he starts, and Dick cuts him off.

“Yes, God, yes.”

Nix laughs again. “I didn’t even finish. How do you want to do this?”

“I don’t care,” Dick snaps, because Nix has been teasing him and caressing him for too long, and in him or on him, Dick just wants, he _needs_ —

“Okay,” Nix murmurs. “I got you.” He gentles him with another deep kiss, smoothing a hand down Dick’s side. The touch is firm enough not to tickle, because Dick has already kneed him once for that, a sharp, reflexive move he’d immediately felt bad for. Except that Nix had cracked up, kissing him swiftly in apology, which was no incentive at all for Dick to remember restraint in the future.

But he waits the torturous minutes while Nix prepares himself, letting Dick rock gently up against him as he does, Nix’s eyes gleaming down at him in anticipation. Dick expects him to settle onto him, but Nix surprises him, rolling onto his back and pulling Dick on top of him in a tangle of knees and elbows and an only slightly winded, “Come here.”

Nix hooks his heels around the back of Dick’s thighs, urging him down, and Dick doesn’t need further instructions.

The press of their bodies and Nix’s fingers tight on his hips are good. But it’s the look on Nix’s face when he shudders and gasps and shakes apart that ultimately tips Dick over the edge. His groan feels torn out of him, pleasure wrenching his body in waves that crest and roll through him until he drops, boneless, on top of Nix.

The space between them is sweaty and sticky. Nix wriggles his arm out from under Dick’s ribs to slide under the hollow of his shoulder, and Dick turns his head so Nix’s hair isn’t tickling his nose, but neither of them move any farther apart. Finally, Dick blows out a long breath and eases away, though he drops a kiss onto Nix’s hairline. Nix’s eyes are closed, and he only hums faintly in response.

“I’m going to wash up,” Dick tells him, and Nix grumbles something unintelligible.

When he comes back, Nix still looks asleep, though he’d rolled over to hug a pillow in Dick’s absence. Dick touches him carefully on the shoulder, still marveling at this new permission. “You want a washcloth?” he offers, and Nix groans and hoists himself up.

“No,” he says, but the piteous look he gives the distance between bed and bathroom says otherwise. He leans into Dick instead, kissing him again, until Dick stops tasting toothpaste in his own mouth, until all he can taste is Nix.

Finally Nix pushes himself heavily to his feet and shuffles naked into the bathroom for his own shower. Dick climbs into the unused bed—they’d reserved a double, after all—and crawls under the covers. He’d intended to wait for Nix, but the late hour catches up to him, and he’s drifting before long. He jerks awake again when Nix reaches over him to flick off the lights, and Nix’s voice has a frown in it that Dick can’t see when he asks, “This okay?”

It takes Dick a moment to realize Nix means crawling into bed with him, his brain fuzzy with sleep. “Yeah,” he says. “Of course.”

Nix’s arm curls around his waist, and Dick wonders if he’ll be able to sleep like this. It’s been so long since he slept beside someone, and he was never a close sleeper, preferring his space even when he had someone he liked enough to share his bed. Nix’s breath rasps in his ear, and Dick thinks indignantly that if Nix snores, he’s kicking him out regardless, but it’s the last thought he has before sleep claims him, dragging him down into the comforting dark.

* * *

 

Dick wakes when the sun starts to pour in around the edges of the blinds. He’s never been good about sleeping in, but he had slept soundly. Nix is still clinging to his back like a barnacle, knees pressing against the back of Dick’s knees, and Dick is starting to sweat. He kicks the covers down gently and eases out of Nix’s hold. Nix stirs but doesn’t open his eyes. Dick makes his way to the bathroom and quietly pulls the door shut, leaving Nix to his sleep.

In the light of day, he’s less sanguine about the night’s events. He thinks they should probably talk about things, but the thought makes his stomach twist. Dick doesn’t want to talk about having sex, or even particularly about his feelings. He never has. He wants to finish the shower currently beating down on him, wake Nix, and go out for breakfast. He wants to drive home, and take the dogs on a walk, and bitch about Sobel, and let Nix make him dinner when he complains about being out of bread. In short, he wants things to be the same as they’ve always been, except that he never wants to see Nix heading out without him on a Friday night, and he wants last night to be every night instead, and in short he wants everything to be entirely different.

Dick turns the water off with a vicious twist. When he steps out of the bathroom, he’s relieved to find Nix still asleep. He dresses quietly, and slips out the door, pulling it shut with a gentle click.

* * *

 

There’s a coffee shop in the hotel lobby, but his phone tells him there’s a Dunkin Donuts a mile down the road, and Dick opts for the walk. He sends Nix a text as he heads through the wide revolving doors, letting him know where he is.

Dick does in fact feel calmer by the time he gets back to the hotel, a half hour in the cool morning air clearing his head slightly. At least he knows what he has to do.

When he swipes his keycard and enters the room, Nix is at last awake, sitting up and reading his phone. He’s still naked under the sheets, hair disheveled and curling slightly around his ears. He looks up and starts to smile, then notices the look on Dick’s face. “What?”

Dick hands him one of the coffees, and sits on the edge of the wrecked bed. “I’m sorry. About last night.”

Nix puts the coffee down without even tasting it, suddenly looking as cranky as he usually does in the mornings. He sits up, yanking the sheets around his waist, and all of Dick’s new found ease of mind shatters with his sharp, jerky motions. “I’m not,” Nix says. “Are you kidding me with this? What is there to be sorry about?”

“Last night was great,” Dick says hurriedly, and Nix presses his fingers to his eyes in disbelief, or maybe just because he’s still having trouble with the bright morning light. Dick’s pretty sure either way it’s just Nix’s dramatic side coming out, so he presses on.

“But I haven’t been honest with you,” Dick admits. “I know you’re not interested in anything serious. But I am. And I thought we could stay as friends, but last night… it got away from me. And it shouldn’t have. You’ve been clear about what you want, and it’s not right that I—“

“I haven’t,” Nix interrupts, dropping his hands and looking Dick in the eye. “Been clear. No, I wasn’t looking for anything, but Dick… You just happened. I wasn’t looking for it, but that doesn’t mean I’m not glad to have found you. More than glad.”

“I don’t want you to feel pressured into something, but I want,” he hesitates. “I _need_ it to be all the way. And I can’t ask that if you’re not—“

“Dick,” Nix cuts him off again, reaching out and taking his hand, pulling at him. “I spend almost all my free time with you. I tell you everything. We have keys to each other’s houses. I took you to my father’s wedding.”

“Because you hate your family.”

“Because you’re the only person who can make this kind of thing bearable. I love you.”

Dick stares at him. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

Nix shrugs helplessly. “Why didn’t you?”

When it’s clear Dick doesn’t have an answer to that, Nix tugs harder on the hand he holds until Dick puts his own coffee on the nightstand and moves to sit on the bed beside Nix instead, one leg drawn up to face the headboard and Nix’s face. Nix’s hip is warm against his.

“Let’s start this over,” Nix suggests. He pulls Dick in until he can learn forward and kiss him, breath still sour from sleep, and Dick leans into him like a plant toward the sun. “Good morning,” he says when they part. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“I love you,” Dick says, and Nix’s grin lights up the room.

* * *

 

 

On Wednesday, Nix hurries Dick through sandwiches for dinner, saying he has a surprise planned. Dick had been refraining from guessing, so he doesn’t have expectations exactly, but he’s still nonplussed when Nix walks him out the front door and up Sobel’s front walk.

“What are we doing?”

“ _We_ are doing nothing,” Nix tells him, reaching forward to knock at the door. It opens almost immediately. It’s Bill Guarnere on the other side, grinning widely.

“It’s a full house,” he greets, quieter than his usual carrying tone. “Nice turn out for a mutiny.”

Dick shoots Nix a look, and Nix hustles him through the foyer before he can dig in his heels and demand answers. He’s recalling that the first Wednesday of the month has been the standing date for HOA meetings since he moved in. It’s just that no one other than Sobel, the chair, ever actually attends. Dick has a sudden inkling he knows where this has all been heading.

Sobel is standing in the dining room gritting his teeth while Carwood and Chuck Grant rearrange his chairs for more seating and Bull Randleman simply looms in a corner, smiling in a friendly yet predatory way. Martin and Toye and Talbert all drift in over the next few minutes.

At seven on the dot, Sobel stands and calls the meeting to order, his voice strained. Dick knows from the way his eyes dart around the room that he, too, can tell that something is beyond the ordinary.

“As the first order of business,” Sobel begins, but stops abruptly when Carwood stands, raising his hand politely before interrupting.

“I’d like to raise a motion, sir,” he says, soft voiced and assured. “To nominate Dick Winters for HOA chair.”

“Seconded,” Toye says immediately in a low growl, his eyes shooting daggers at Sobel. He’d been fined when his niece had “vandalized” the sidewalk in front of his house with her chalk drawings of mermaids and volcanoes.

“Third,” snaps Guarnere, throwing a significant look at Dick as he does so. Dick is oddly touched. He and Bill had had their own spats in the early days about some of the more boisterous parties that had spilled over into Dick’s yard.

The rest of the men turn to look at Dick as well, and he purses his lips, not sure whether to laugh or be annoyed. “Do I need to accept?” he asks.

“Yes,” Carwood says seriously, so Dick nods.

“I accept,” he says, because this has clearly all been orchestrated, and far be it for Dick to countermand his whole team. Plus Nix, who is looking decidedly smug about the whole thing.

“No,” Sobel says, angry now that the plan is coming clear. “Organizational level decisions have to have an announcement and waiting period before any vote can—“

“Not when a quorum is present at the meeting,” Grant points out. He’s been sitting with his hands folded neatly in front of him, looking grim.

“Means we’ve got enough people here right now,” says Bull from his perch along the wall. “No need to wait at all.”

“All those in favor?” Carwood asks, and hands rise all around the room, save three.

Sobel glares at them all, clearly opposed.

After a moment of thought, Dick raises his hand as well. He doesn’t plan to be the tyrant that Sobel has been, and if taking him out of play means organizing the trash and recycling pickup for the neighborhood in his place, Dick will count that worth it.

He looks curiously at Nix, who sits looking pleased, but with his hands in his lap.

Carwood nods, not seeming to notice. “The motion passes. Dick, did you have any further business?”

Dick bites back a sigh. “I think I have some paperwork to look over first.” A ripple of laughter moves through the room, with a single, literally glaring exception. “Will that be a problem to find?” he addresses Sobel, who looks ready to spit poison.

He looks around the room at the gathered men and clearly thinks better of any other response. “No,” he says, curt and defeated. “I’ll pull it together. Meeting adjourned.” Then, looking around at their satisfied expressions, he points toward his door. “So get out.”

They do, not lingering, except for Dick and Nix, who wait on the front porch for the promised paperwork. Dick waits until the rest of them have cleared off, each taking the time to first clap him on the back and wish him well. Finally, when it’s just the two of them, he raises his eyebrows at Nix. “No vote. Should I be offended?”

Nix grins, leaning back with his elbows on Sobel’s front railing. “Dick, my house is literally a hundred years older and twice as big as anything else in the neighborhood. It predates the existence of the rest of the neighborhood. I have never been part of the HOA.”

Dick frowns. Somehow this admission makes less sense than the sudden coup he’d just witnessed. He’s always thought of Nix as being not just sympathetic, but in the mess with him. “But he writes you letters too. You’ve shown them to me.”

“That’s because he’s an asshole,” Nix says. “He knows. I’ve never paid dues, or the fines. It doesn’t stop him sending the letters, though.”

Dick takes in this new information, feeling oddly disgruntled. Finally he puts a finger on it. “If I ever move in with you, he’ll just take back over.”

“I thought about that,” Nix says casually, with a slight smile that has Dick already feeling more at ease, and he leans on the railing next to Nix.

“You moving in with me?” he asks, not thinking for a moment Nix will say yes. He’s a creature of fine comforts, and Dick’s galley kitchen is fine for one, but crowded with two. And Dick admits he would be almost more dismayed than Nix to lose access to Nix’s huge soaking tub with the spa jets.

Nix grimaces. “Please. No.” He bumps Dick’s shoulder with his. “Thought I might join this HOA deal after all. Hear the new chair’s a real hardass, but I think I’ve got an in.”

Dick jostles his shoulder back. “I think we can work something out.”


End file.
